Page 44 of Eight Days of Christmas
“Technically,playing the field,” Leo used finger quotes, “is a football analogy. Not basketball. Little bro.”
“Whatever. You know what I mean.” Landon wiggled his brows.
Leo followed Landon into the kitchen. “No. I don’t think I do know what you mean. Please do educate us on whatplaying the fieldmeans.” He squeezed Landon’s shoulders from behind. “You know, in front of your fiancée’s parents.”
Landon’s face turned a bright shade of red.
“Okay,” Norah said, joining Landon in the kitchen and sliding her hand into his. “On that awkward note, I think it’s time to go.”
Dad side-eyed his soon-to-be son-in-law, but he wasn’t fooling anyone with the smirk on his face. He adored Landon. Always had. Although, maybe not quite as much as he adored Leo. Which, if Isabella was being honest, was super aggravating.
“Are you sure you’re up for today’s festivities, Isabella? Maybe you should hang back and catch up on your beauty sleep.” Landon snorted.
Norah jabbed an elbow into his side.
Shoulders tense, Isabella narrowed her eyes into slits. Who gave Landon the right to judge her? So she had a rough night of sleep. Who wouldn’t after their ex dropped anI love youbomb?
“I’m with Landon,” Finn said. “You don’t look so good. And you’ve never really liked day three. You kinda sucked at ice skating”
She sighed. “Just because I was an unskilled skater doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.”
“If that’s the case, maybe Landon should sit this day out too.” Leo smirked.
“Alright.” Mom clapped her hands together. “Everyone is going. Everyone is participating. And we need to get an early start. Otherwise, the parking lot will be packed, and the rink will be overcrowded with out-of-towners who don’t have any business being out there.” She untied her apron and turned to Isabella, pouting her lips. “Sorry, Izzy.”
“For what?”
“About the out-of-towner joke.”
“Mom, I’m not a tourist. This was my home for eighteen years.” She slammed her coffee mug onto the counter. “Ugh, how have you all forgotten that?” Isabella pinched the bridge of her nose and stormed out of the room without even eating breakfast.
She mumbled to herself as she stomped up the stairs, “Eight Days of Christmas, my ass. It’s only day three and I’m ready to jump on the next plane out of here.”
You would think,once she had time to calm down, Isabella would feel better. But she didn’t. Instead, at the outdoor rink, she sat on the lowest bleacher with her skates, still fuming. Besides the lack of sleep, the eggnog, and the tug-of-war on her heart, her family’s teasing was grating on her. Mom had said she enjoyed having her home for the holidays, but she sure didn’t act like it.
The chilled breeze in the air blasted her bare cheeks and neck with an unforgiving sting. The ominous, grayish-white sky depicted the definite chance of another snowfall. Isabella had hoped for at least a few days of her favorite Colorado winter days—clear blue skies and a bright sun beaming its warmth.
Pineridge had four ice rinks. The one at the high school and the elementary school where the Whitleys and Hoffmans skated at on the weekends, the indoor rink where Norah taught children’s figure skating lessons and the outdoor one that tourists liked the most. Bright lights crisscrossed and draped over the rink, illuminating the ice at night. There was a food truck parked next to the skate-rental booth that sold coffee, hot cocoa, and pastries. Seating areas around a couple gas fire pits were gathered near the parking lot.
Isabella daydreamed about warming herself in front of the crackling fire, sipping on a rich hot coffee. She groaned out loud, seated on the hard, cold bleacher, and bent over, tugging on her skates. That part she’d never forget, out-of-towner or not.
“This seat taken?”
Isabella glanced up and there was Leo, an ice skate in each hand. She shrugged and bit down on the inside of her cheek.
He sat next to her, though hesitantly. “How you doing?”
“Been better.” She worked at her laces, dangling in knots.
“Yeah, I bet.” Leo pushed his feet into his skates. “You know, she loves you. She’s just trying to roll with things. She’s not purposely trying to make you feel bad.”
Isabella kept her head down, her eyes stinging. “I know my mom, Leo.”
“Do you?”
She glared at him. She wanted to say something sharp, something that would hurt, but there was nothing to say. The truth was that she used to know her mom. Maybe not so much anymore. And it wasn’t just Mom. It was everyone.
She turned back to her skates.
